The wheels on the floor cleaner squeaked slightly as the machine was pushed into the room, but because of the spacious size of the chamber, the sound was amplified by the echo.

Melvin Alton didn't hear any of the noise he was making as the headphones he listened to drowned out everything in the surrounding area. He pulled out a wet floor sign and stationed it near the door should anyone try to enter the conference room while he was working.

The floor cleaner was composed of a four foot tall cylinder in the center of the machine. Melvin knew two water tanks resided inside the cylinder, one for clean water and one for the dirty water picked up off the floor after the cleaning process was completed. Numerous hoses and pipes surrounded the cylinder, almost encasing it in a cocoon; Melvin didn't know their purpose, and he didn't particularly care as long as the machine worked when and how he needed it.

Pulling a small key from the pocket of his blue jumpsuit, he inserted it into the ignition and brought the cleaner to life. Lowering the T shaped handle controls, Melvin got a secure grip with both hands and pulled the trigger on the right side. The underside brushes engaged as jets of water blasted the floor to clean away any contaminants, no matter how small. The powerful vacuum began sucking up the water to leave the floor almost completely dry as Melvin guided the machine along the edge of the wall.

Most people thought of janitorial work as menial, but Melvin liked it. He could work by himself, at his own pace, and he could listen to music while he worked. A note of special pride was the distinction of being one of the few people who had the opportunity to work in an underwater city.

As he worked, Melvin smelled something. It reminded him of burnt hair. He stopped the cleaner and shut it off, sniffing a few times to be sure he wasn't overloading any of the electronics, but the smell wasn't coming from the equipment. Wondering what could be the cause, he turned around and looked toward the circular conference table in the center of the room. Small ribbons of smoke were rising from the chairs, and he thought the board members were having a meeting, possibly smoking cigars, and he'd interrupted.

Thinking it best to apologize before making a quick exit, Melvin removed his headphones and approached the table. When he got closer, he found the people sitting in the chairs were nothing more than charred husks. One of the almost unrecognizable forms was wearing a ring on its blackened hand. Melvin remembered having seen the ring in a picture of the board members.

Melvin barely had time to grab one of the stainless steel trash cans under the table before losing his breakfast. Still holding the can, he backed away from the grisly scene. He knew he had to get out, but his eyes seemed unwilling to allow him to look away. A sound was ultimately responsible for directing his gaze elsewhere for he heard footsteps coming down the hall.

Melvin was frozen in panic. He didn't know what to do. Although he didn't want to run away and look guilty fleeing the scene of a crime, standing near the bodies of a group of murdered people wouldn't exactly make him the picture of innocence either. Deciding without fully understanding the reasons behind it, Melvin bolted for the side door.

He unclipped the bundle of keys from his belt and tried the lock, but in his haste, he'd picked the wrong one and it didn't fit. Shuffling the keys around, he tried again. Still not the right one. The footsteps were getting closer. Melvin tried again, and the lock opened. He ducked into the hallway just as the main conference room door opened and two security men entered.

Dressed in black tactical gear, the guards looked more like military police than private security. The men carried a high powered laser rifle, complete with scope, in their hands, and a smaller laser pistol was holstered at their side.

"Hey," one of the guards said, nudging his partner and pointing his gun toward the wet floor sign.

The guards scanned the area with their eyes and spotted the cleaning machine. Both of them switched on their rifles with an audible hum of energy.

"We need to find that janitor," one of the guards said.

"What do we do when we find him?" asked his partner.

"What do you think?" snapped the first man. "Do you want to tell Delong we let someone find out about this?"

"What do we do?" asked the nervous partner.

"Don't panic," ordered the first guard. "We're already looking for the girl, so we'll keep an eye out for the janitor too. We eliminate the girl and claim the janitor was collateral damage. No one will question it, and none of this will have happened."

Melvin, listening on the other side of the door, tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.  Setting down the trash can he was still holding, he moved away from the door, unlocked the door at the end of the access hallway, and ran.

He slowed his pace to a brisk walk when he entered a central plaza, trying to appear casual while wanting desperately to run at full speed to the nearest transport sub. When Melvin spotted a pair of security guards, he ducked into a branching hallway to avoid them and collided with a woman who'd been waiting there.

"Excuse me," Melvin said quickly. He glanced nervously over his shoulder to check the position of the guards. They hadn't seen him yet, but they would in matter of seconds.

The woman noticed his gaze and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into the shadowed doorway of a supply room.

"Hold still," she whispered quickly in his ear. "Wait for them to pass."

Melvin could barely hear her because of his pounding heartbeat. After the guards continued on their way, she released her iron grip from his forearm.

"Why are you hiding from the guards?" she demanded in a firm voice.

"Considering you helped me, I assume you're the one they're looking for," Melvin speculated. "You should know they're planning to kill us both."

"My cover must've been compromised," she replied. "I need to send a message."

"That's your problem," Melvin denied. "I'm getting out of here."

Melvin was spun around and pinned to the storage room door.

"They've got exterior defenses," she reminded him. "A transport won't get very far. Our best chance of survival is in this city, and we'll have a much better chance together. Now, I need to talk to someone topside. Can you help me?"

She released him and he massaged his sore throat where her forearm had been. He knew the city better than most and was familiar with every hidden pathway probably overlooked by security search teams. If they were to stay one step ahead of the people trying to kill them, his knowledge and bundle of keys would be invaluable. The woman seemed to know what was going on, and Melvin planned to ask her about it after they got away from all the gunmen hunting them.

"I know of a place," he said. "Follow me."